Yangyang
Assassins of Salmak are thoroughly trained never to speak while on a mission. Even assassins who had surpassed the wall of the supreme realm were no exception, for they too had once undergone the same training.
But sometimes, frustration and bewilderment beyond all expectation could even loosen their heavy tongues.
Black Butterfly, the leader of Salmak, shouted:
"Damn it! Weren't you just saying we should join forces to avenge the Taeui Sword Sect's leader?"
A rare outburst from an assassin.
But Hyeongong only wrinkled his brow in disgust.
"How could a Daoist of Wudang ever cooperate with filthy assassins? Such a vile, despicable notion."
"You bastard, it was you who first sent a transmission—!"
"Ha!"
Hyeongong cut him off with a mocking laugh.
The longer an opponent's argument drags on, the longer the explanation must be, and the longer the explanation, the weaker its persuasion—that was an unchanging truth.
Instead, Hyeongong pressed his advantage with threats.
"If you wanted to sow discord, you should have picked a better time. Yet here stands a fool trying to sow discord after the swords have already crossed!"
It was a bit shameful to describe what had happened as "crossing swords," but since no one had witnessed his blade piercing the assassin's back, Hyeongong could act with confidence.
After staking his claim, he winked at Namgung Myeong.
Namgung grew uncertain.
"So he wasn't moving together with the assassins, but rather chasing them?"
Now that he thought about it, Hyeongong had always been keeping a slight distance from them—just enough to make it questionable whether they were truly on the same side.
And Hyeongong's explanation was far more convincing than the assassins'. A Daoist of Wudang joining hands with Salmak? What nonsense.
Moreover, Hyeongong had followed them all the way from Sangshin Village to Yangyang, offering to help avenge Tang Mujin's group.
"Seems I misjudged him."
Tang Mujin also thought the situation peculiar.
Perhaps the assassin had cursed out of genuine frustration.
But that didn't mean Tang Mujin believed Hyeongong to be in league with them. After all, hadn't Hyeongong already slain one assassin?
Even if, conceding generously, Hyeongong had truly sent a secret transmission to the assassins, it would be more reasonable to see it as a ploy to deceive them. The idea that he would betray Tang Mujin's group for the assassins, only to immediately betray the assassins again—it was nonsense.
As Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong sorted through their thoughts, Hyeongong shouted loudly:
"Stop dawdling and move already!"
"Got it!"
Though they had briefly doubted him, the task at hand hadn't changed: pierce the assassins' hearts and sever their necks.
Tang Mujin's party strode toward the assassins. In their suddenly reversed situation, the eyes of the masked killers betrayed clear tension.
Three assassins remained standing.
The leader, of average build. A tall, slender one. A smaller one, with small hands and feet, likely a woman.
Of course, Tang Mujin didn't care about an assassin's gender. Man or woman, he would kill them all the same.
He reached into his robes to draw a poison needle—but then thought better of it.
He remembered Sam Anbul's advice: Use poison arts only minimally.
Killing assassins with poison was no problem, but the real issue was Hyeongong.
He was an ally now, but unlike Namgung Myeong or Hong Geolgae, he wasn't beholden to the Tang family physicians. Once this was over, he'd surely return to Wudang and report what he'd seen.
Tang Mujin clicked his tongue. Tch.
"Can't be helped. I'll fight the way the old man taught me."
Use the sword as the core, enhancing its effect with poison, or unsettling the enemy's nerves.
He recalled the countless times Goiyi had drilled it into him:
"Opening forms are for fools. Unleash your full strength in the very first strike."
Yes. The first strike is always the most important.
Tang Mujin's right shoulder slowly lifted, then suddenly shot forward without warning.
His loosely hanging sword darted straight toward the leader assassin's heart.
At the same time, the smaller assassin thrust a sword at him as well.
The two tips met, their trajectories twisting off course simultaneously.
"Answering a thrust with a thrust?"
It was a choice one could not make without immense courage and skill, and unless there was a hidden gambit, no reason to choose it.
A bad premonition.
Casting aside pride, Tang Mujin kicked off the ground with all his might, hurling himself backward.
The very next moment, the enemy's blade grazed his throat before withdrawing. Had he not retreated, his larynx would have been pierced.
The smaller assassin narrowed his eyes in displeasure. Clearly, like Tang Mujin, he had intended to decide the battle in a single opening move.
But since they shared the same mindset and technique, their relative mastery was laid bare.
"That one… with the sword, he's above me."
A chill ran down his spine. Yet Tang Mujin found it exhilarating. Whenever he faced someone even half a step ahead, realization always followed.
"Still, a fight is a fight. I'll have to balance things out."
He raised his left index finger and brushed it gently along the flat of his blade. A dark liquid trickled down, coating the steel.
"Will your blade reach my heart first? Or will mine graze your flesh first? Let's see."
As Tang Mujin grinned, tension flashed in the assassin's eyes.
***
While Tang Mujin engaged one assassin, the other two were barely holding off Namgung Myeong and Hyeongong's strikes.
Then, as if by tacit agreement, both seized the chance to target Hong Geolgae. When carving a path to escape, the weakest is always the first target.
And Hong Geolgae held only a crude bamboo staff. A casual swing could snap it clean in two. The assassins hardly needed to confer to decide their prey.
But Hong Geolgae wasn't a fool. He'd already guessed they would come for him, and so, though barely, he managed to block their attacks.
"Not so fast!"
The bamboo staff he had received from Hongmyeon Nogae deflected the assassin's blade without so much as a scratch.
Instead, the assassin's sword lost a tooth where it struck the staff, causing him to falter.
In that brief gap, Hong Geolgae planted his stance firmly and slowly rotated his arms, unleashing the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms.
A surge of energy followed, threatening enough that even assassins stronger than him could not ignore it.
Watching, Hyeongong was impressed.
"The Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms! As expected… he truly is the Beggars' Sect successor."
It was no easy feat to wield the sect's pinnacle martial art without yet having crossed the wall of the supreme realm.
Hyeongong raised his evaluation of Hong Geolgae.
"His martial attainment isn't six and a half points, but seven. He has plenty of potential."
Even what had seemed a weakness now revealed itself as solid skill. The assassins, realizing this, twitched their lips beneath their masks, sending transmissions to one another.
The very next moment, two of them—excluding the leader—suddenly changed. Their inner power surged.
Hyeongong instantly grasped it.
"They're using True Origin Reversal Qi!"
At once, their blood energy reversed as well. Their eyes filled with burst vessels, whites turning red, and veins bulged along their arms.
To use True Origin Reversal Qi was to embrace certain death. To also reverse their qi-blood flow meant they would surely die soon—within no more than an hour or two.
But such a desperate choice meant their power would soar accordingly.
Their assault became ferocious beyond comparison.
"Damn it!"
Tang Mujin nearly lost grip of his sword blocking one blow. Their speed was blistering, and their blades carried the crushing weight of iron clubs.
Worse, inner force poured down his blade into his body. Not since consuming the Great Recovery Pill and gaining vast reserves of inner energy had he felt such pressure.
The enemy's sword, flashing over his shoulder, dropped in an instant to stab at his throat.
Even when he deflected with all his strength, the next strike came hurtling again toward a vital point.
As Tang Mujin parried by a hair's breadth, a peculiar thrill coursed through him. Just a bit more. Just a bit more. He whispered it to himself.
The young physician of a minor clan had become a man climbing to enlightenment at the tip of a sword.
Meanwhile, Hong Geolgae had retreated completely from the fight.
He yearned to break through the wall of the supreme realm by facing a strong foe, but with his current ability, he couldn't withstand even a single exchange of that frenzy.
As the battle raged, the assassins shifted tactics.
The two using True Origin Reversal Qi suddenly spun and charged at Hyeongong, leaving the leader to face Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong alone.
Tang Mujin understood their intent.
"They mean to kill Hyeongong, who blocks their retreat, and let the leader escape."
Urgency filled him. They had to kill the assassins before Hyeongong fell.
But the leader's skill was far beyond that of his subordinates, even without using the forbidden art. Tang Mujin and Namgung's combined attacks could not break through easily.
Black Butterfly might be "just" an assassin, but he had long since stepped into the supreme realm.
Namgung murmured:
"Don't be hasty. Time is on our side."
"We might be, but Hyeongong's in danger!"
"Relax. When it comes to preserving his own skin, there's no one better than Hyeongong."
Tang Mujin glanced at him.
Until now, Hyeongong's martial display had been a bit disappointing.
They said Hyeongong was hailed as the greatest late-blooming genius, and indeed, the sharpness of his sword was hardly different from Tang Mujin's. That was why Tang Mujin had thought Namgung Myeong was perhaps a step or two ahead of Hyeongong.
But now, pressed into a defensive struggle, Hyeongong was revealing his true face.
Tang Mujin found himself pausing, watching the man's swordplay.
Numerical disadvantage. Speed. Strength. The gap in inner energy.
None of it mattered to Hyeongong in this moment.
With a single sword, he bent the straight path of the enemy's blades. He skillfully diverted strikes imbued with greater inner force than his own, ensnared faster blades and stripped them of their speed.
The assassins' swords brushed dangerously close, slicing his clothing, but they never touched his skin.
It was nothing less than a shield that blocked everything—a sword style standing in direct opposition to the Saiil Sword of the Jeomchang Sect, which sought to pierce through anything.
Whereas Sam Anbul's external arts radiated rugged strength, Hyeongong's art displayed a different kind of stability.
As Namgung Myeong swung his sword, he murmured:
"The Wudang Sect's power will only grow. In time, they may claim the seat of the world's foremost sword sect."
Tang Mujin agreed with the sentiment.
The sects of the martial world suffered from a chronic weakness:
Even if they discovered an outstanding talent and trained him for ten years, that genius could still die instantly when facing someone stronger.
That was why the Jeomchang Sect, once celebrated as the foremost in the land, had declined. If the sect's core masters fell one after another, its foundations inevitably shook.
But Wudang was different.
Even when facing an opponent a step stronger, their disciples could survive. Talents that would have died young in other sects endured, carrying on Wudang's legacy and martial lineage.
Still, even Hyeongong's stable swordplay had its flaws.
For example, it excelled at defending his ground—but was poor at catching an enemy trying to flee.
The assassin leader, fending off Namgung's blade, spotted an opening and leapt in one bound over his two subordinates and Hyeongong, fleeing swiftly.
In doing so, he left the backs of the two men who had unleashed True Origin Reversal Qi wide open.
Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong did not miss the chance, stabbing their blades into the assassins' exposed backs. Yet the two, numb to pain, continued to swing wildly, barring the way.
"Just die already!"
Tang Mujin glanced at the fleeing leader. He thought he must stop him now, but there was no way past the two frenzied assassins.
He couldn't understand why the subordinates would sacrifice their very lives in loyalty. They were assassins, after all—mere black path killers.
***
Not long after, the battle neared its end.
The two assassins exhausted their reversed qi and were riddled with deep sword wounds. Their movements slowed, and finally, they collapsed, lifeless even before a final blow could be struck—a rather anticlimactic end.
Tang Mujin crouched to examine the bodies. Their veins had burst from the reversed qi-blood flow, leaving their flesh covered in bruises, and their hearts were nothing but shredded pulp.
Including the assassin pierced by Hyeongong's blade at the start, three corpses lay there, with only one fugitive escaped.
Tang Mujin gazed down at the dead, then slashed his sword down, severing their heads.
With their hearts stilled, the bodies could not spurt blood forcefully; headless torsos only gurgled weakly as blood welled out.
Hyeongong frowned.
"Was there any need to mutilate their corpses so? Show respect for the dead."
"If this were an ordinary duel of life and death, perhaps. But this is revenge."
"Even revenge has limits."
"I carried my master's corpse on my back for a month through snow. You don't know how long I've waited for this moment."
With those words, Tang Mujin thrust his blade once more, gouging out the hearts of all three corpses. The sensation at his fingertips was strangely vivid.
Hong Geolgae asked,
"Will you bury them?"
"No. Leave them for the wild dogs to eat."
Tang Mujin abandoned the bodies where they lay and walked on.
Hyeongong found the corpses unsettling, but he couldn't bring himself to bury them either.
"The one who fled—it's a real pity. He must have been their leader."
Tang Mujin muttered bitterly, and Namgung Myeong shifted the subject.
"Where do you think he's headed?"
"No idea. But wherever he hides, I'll find him and kill him."
"So what now? Too late to give chase?"
"No. Let's finish what we started here. We'll wipe out the remnants of Salmak still holed up in Jingajang."
As Tang Mujin turned back toward Yangyang, Hyeongong's expression grew more serious than before.
He thought furiously.
"The assassins must still be in Jingajang."
They had seen Tang Mujin's group flee in haste, so there was no reason for them to abandon their base yet. Eventually they would relocate, but not tonight.
"But will only assassins be there?"
He couldn't be sure. Taeui Sword Sect disciples might also be gathering near Jingajang, since they knew Tang Mujin's target was Salmak.
That meant if he accompanied Tang Mujin's party to Jingajang, he might encounter the Taeui disciples.
And if he did, his position would become terribly awkward.
"They might suspect me of betrayal."
Of course, there was the option of joining Tang Mujin to slaughter the Taeui Sword Sect.
But in that case, Tang Mujin's group would surely begin to eye him suspiciously.
The situation became clear again.
"The best course is to avoid running into the Taeui Sword Sect altogether."
Hyeongong began to edge backward and asked Tang Mujin:
"Could wiping out Jingajang be dangerous?"
"No. Only small fry should be left. Why?"
"In that case, I'll first gather clues to track down the one who escaped, then rejoin you. Wudang excels in pursuit techniques."
Of course, Wudang taught no such thing.
But outsiders wouldn't know that.
"Well, suit yourself."
Tang Mujin nodded without suspicion.
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